


Tumblr Drabble Collection

by Vagabond



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A little bit of everything, F/F, Gen, Hannigram - Freeform, I live in a world where beverly didn't die k, M/M, Tumblr Prompts, Tumblr drabbles, be sure to check chapter titles for the pairings they are written for, bevlana, chillywilly, random requests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a little bit of everything; these are all the prompt responses I've done on tumblr combined into one place for easy access.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm gonna be sick - Chillywilly

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://http://rdlenix.tumblr.com/) and sometimes I open up my box to requests. These are the results.
> 
> This one is from an angsty prompt meme where I had to use the line, "I'm gonna be sick."

Frederick should have known something was wrong when he was getting strange looks when he stepped into the office after the weekend. Each passing glance and awkward stare provoked a deep sense of dread. When he stepped into his office he saw a paper sitting on his desk and frowned as he slowly approached. He picked it up and froze, staring at the print. It was a large picture of him, disemboweled and holding his own organs in while Freddie Lounds stood beside him and pumped air into his lungs. It was a picture he hadn’t seen before and he wasn’t sure where it came from.

He couldn’t even read the headline because his eyes were blurred with tears. Frederick crumpled up the paper and tried to ignore the bile that rose up in the back of his throat as he tossed the paper as far away from him as possible. Then, shaking, he collapsed into his office chair and immediately pulled out his cell phone. Grateful for speed dial, soon enough Will’s voice was on the other end of the line.

“Frederick, hey, didn’t you just get to work?”

“Will,” his voice broke and he choked back a sob. The image danced behind his eye lids anytime he closed his eyes and threatened to drag him into a full blown flashback, “I’m gonna be sick,” he admitted and dropped down onto his knees and held the phone away from him as he retched violently into the garbage can.

From his phone he could hear Will calling out to him but couldn’t make out the words as he lost his breakfast in the mental trash can. Hot tears slid down his face and once he couldn’t puke up anything more, he just spit into the can and finally pushed it away. He crawled under his desk and took in a deep breath.

“Frederick? Frederick!”

“I’m here, Will,” he mumbled morosely, his entire body aching as he tried to focus on the sound of his lover’s voice, “I’m not doing well.”

“I’m already in my car. It is going to take me a little while to get there but you’ll have to hold on, okay? Stay on the phone with me.”

He remained on the phone and they switched between Will speaking gentle words into his ear and silence as he focused on his breathing. It was over an hour later when Will informed him he’d pulled up and parked and he would be up in a few moments. Frederick was reluctant but he finally hung up and not five minutes later his door creaked open and the other man rushed around the desk and dropped to his knees beside him.

Will offered him a water bottle and he gulped down the water a bit too quickly and ended up coughing. So Will took the water away, pressed a quick kiss to his temple, and set to the task of getting the garbage can out of his office. Once that was taken care of he returned and crawled half under the desk, his hip pressed up against Frederick’s. He pressed a cold hand to his forehead and then brushed his hair back affectionately.

“Did you see it?” Frederick asked quietly, “I imagine they’re all around the hospital. That’s why people were looking at me strangely. Whispering. I’m used to the looks but not because of t-that,” his voice broke and Will shushed him and pulled him into an embrace.

He settled against his lover’s chest and realized he was still trembling even wrapped in Will’s arms. Yet exhaustion was setting in quickly and he gripped at the other man’s pant leg.

“Shh, Frederick, it doesn’t matter,” Will murmured as he ran his fingers through Frederick’s hair again soothingly, “you’re safe right now, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m a fool.”

“You’re fine. I’m here and you’re okay. Stop thinking and try to rest for a little while. I’m going to stay here however long you need me to.”

Frederick nodded his head and let the other man’s touches soothe away his fear.


	2. Oh fuck OH FUCK - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Oh fuck, OH FUCK" chillywilly

Less angsty more silly but here you go anon

“Oh fuck, OH FUCK!” Frederick snapped in dismay as soapy water from the dog bath splashed all over his suit. He should have changed out of it into something less formal but he’d been attempting to get all the dogs bathed before Will was home. It was especially important, because amongst the pack was a new young dog that had been wandering around near the hospital and he wanted to impress his lover.

The rest of the pack had taken to the bath just fine, used to it from years of Will’s oddly anal need to make sure his pack was relatively clean. It was his dog that was the troubling one. With shaggy fur caked in mud and his rump sensitive due to something causing him to lose fur, he was not particularly interested in Frederick’s insistent fingers scrubbing away the dirt. So he’d circled around in the tub, whined, and then finally resorted to shaking himself every couple of minutes just to splatter Frederick with the water.

His suit was ruined. He knew it. A little part of his mourned it and was scornful toward the dog, but a bigger part decided it was worth it.

“You’re a little shit,” Frederick hissed as he dumped water over the lanky dog’s head and watched as he licked at it while it dripped over his face.

“Frederick, did you bring me a new dog?” Will asked skeptically and Frederick nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced up, surprised to find his lover standing a few feet away observing the scene. “You could have at least changed into something less expensive. I’ve got at least one t-shirt you could have borrowed.”

“I was being hasty,” Frederick admitted as he ran his fingers nervously through the dog’s white fur, working out the mats and the last bits of dirt, “I wanted him to be clean and dry before you got home.”

Will set his stuff aside and approached the tub, immediately kneeling down in front of the dog.

“Hello there,” he greeted and allowed the dog to sniff his hands before he rubbed them along the dog’s muzzle and cheeks, “Frederick, do you know what type of dog this is?”

“The furry kind,” Frederick answered with a huff, unable to tear his eyes away from Will’s hands.

“A Great Pyrenees. Maybe a mix, but he’s young so it is hard to tell. He definitely looks like one, though, with the thick white fur, curly tail, and the black accents here on his face,” Will drew his fingers over the wet tips of the dog’s ears. “Does he have a name?”

“Jung.”

“You named him after a psychologist. Of course.” Will chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss to the dog’s nose, receiving a lick to his own in return, “he’s going to be a big dog, you know.”

“Great,” Frederick sighed and then made a surprised noise when Will leaned in and kissed him, “so we’re keeping him?”

“Yes, Frederick, we’re keeping him. He’s part of the pack now. How about we get him dried off and then you cleaned up?” One of Will’s hands strayed down to Frederick’s thigh suggestively and he swallowed hard and nodded.

“That sounds like a wonderful plan.”


	3. Blanket forts - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Willtonite on tumblr to make her day a bit brighter.

Will sometimes wondered if bad weather correlated to bad moods. The entire week the skies had been grey and dreary, rain pounding down with short breaks in-between that barely gave the ground time to dry before another onslaught began. All the dogs were in a constant state of being muddy and every evening, before he let them back in one by one, he wiped their paws and tried to get most of it off. On top of everything, it seemed with the dark weather came dark dreams and both he and Frederick had been wrecked by nightmares nearly every night. They’d taken to sleeping in separate areas, Will on the couch and Frederick curled on the bed, because they would both lash out during the night and it was safer that way.

It was all frustrating and left Will exhausted and fighting a niggling sense of depression threatening to pull him down and refuse to let him up.

So the last thing he was expecting when he stepped into his house in Wolf Trap was to see blankets draped all over the living room. A couple of the dogs emerged from beneath the blanket-tents that had been constructed and they looked clean and fluffy, as if they’d all been given baths. He patted their heads and looked around the room, amazed at the blanket fortress which had been constructed. Apparently Frederick had been busy while he had been gone and the sight was enough to bring an exhausted smile to his face.

The furniture had been rearranged and there were piles of books keeping the blankets in place on a coffee table, while the other end of the blanket was tucked into the couch cushions. It provided a rather low hanging, but still comfortable looking crawl space and peeking out from beneath it he realized there was an air mattress.

“Frederick?” He called out into the house and the other man poked his head out from the kitchen. Will could hear the distinct popping of popcorn and gave a questioning look.

“Will,” Frederick looked just as tired as he felt, but there was something warm in the other man’s eyes that hadn’t been there through most of the week, “I, well, what do you think?”

“I think we’re regressed to being seven year olds on a rainy day,” Will replied as he crossed the room and approached Frederick who glanced away almost shyly.

“At work today I was going over play therapy with one of the interns and I had an idea. It has been a miserable week so I thought, maybe a little play therapy could work well for us, too. So I rented a stupidly lighthearted movie, made popcorn, and I thought we could get comfortable and hide in a blanket fort for a while.” Frederick finally looked up at Will when he stepped into his space.

Will didn’t waste any time and pressed their lips together, his hand coming up to cup Frederick’s cheek as he turned and pushed the other man against the wall. He felt his lover’s hands fumble a bit until they curled in Will’s coat and pulled him so their bodies were pressed together.

“It was a good idea, Frederick,” Will murmured against his lips as he gently nipped Frederick’s lower lip and pulled it into his mouth to suck on it.

“So I’ve, ah, gathered,” Frederick replied breathlessly as he leaned in and stole a chaste kiss.

After they rested in each other’s space for a long moment, the pair separated and Frederick moved to take care of the popcorn while Will left to change out of his wet clothes into something more comfortable. When he returned to the living room, dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, he got down on his knees and crawled onto the air mattress under the blanket fort. Something about the soft walls surrounding him and the pile of blankets beneath him gave him a deep sense of comfort as he settled in and waited for Frederick.

The bowl of popcorn was set at the head of the air mattress which was pointed in the direction of the TV. As the movie started, Frederick crawled into the blanket fort beside Will. For a while they lay on their stomachs, side by side, eating popcorn and watching the movie. About halfway though, Will shifted onto his side and pulled up some of the blankets so that they were both covered with them. Frederick glanced at him curiously and made a surprised noise when Will tugged him in close and kissed him.

Frederick tasted like butter and salt as their tongues brushed together and Will pressed the other man down beneath him on the air mattress. His lover responded well, his arms going around Will’s neck as his fingers tangled in his curls and held him close. They kissed for a time, the movie going on unnoticed in the background, and in each other’s arms they drifted in and out of sleep. Anytime they pulled out of the exhausted fog which tugged them under, they exchanged lazy kisses and touches, until the room went dark as the movie finished and they were left lying together listening to the rain.

It pattered gently against the roof of the house and seemed to fill the room around them with a comforting beat that threatened to push them into sleep. Tangled up in each other, Will pressed a kiss to Frederick’s forehead and smiled when the other man nestled against his chest.

“I think the blanket fort should stay for a while,” Will murmured into his lover’s hair as he buried his nose in it and inhaled Frederick’s scent.

“Agreed,” Frederick mumbled sleepily.

The dogs eventually slipped into the blanket fortress and surrounded them, curling up in various places to sleep. Amongst his lover, his dogs, and the blankets surrounding them, Will found peace in the midst of the storm.


	4. GNC!Chilton Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday gift for Jonasnightingay on tumblr.

Will came home to what was slowly becoming a typical sight: Frederick was on the couch in a pair of floral shorts and a form fitting pink tank top attempting to paint his nails. His hair was a bit of a mess and it looked as if he’d tried to style it but eventually just ran his hands through it and allowed it to stick up in every which way. One leg was stretched out over the length of the couch while the other was bent at the knee as he struggled to paint his toes a rather attractive rosy shade of pink. 

He’d definitely put on some make-up, too, though nothing over the top. At first Will hadn’t really noticed the difference unless Frederick went all out with it, but now he could appreciate the subtle eye shadow and the faint hint of blush across his cheeks. It added a different dimension to the other man’s already handsome face. All around the couch the dogs were sitting, watching curiously as Frederick made little frustrated noises whenever he accidentally painted a part of his toe instead of the nail.

Only Winston padded over to greet Will with a soft whine and a wagging tail. He ran his fingers along the dog’s soft ear as he set down his bag and pulled the door shut behind him. Walking over to the couch, he stood behind the arm Frederick was leaning against and bent down to press a kiss to his temple. He was met with a soft curse and a half-glare in his direction because somehow his movement had jostled the other man enough that he’d ended up smearing the paint on his big toe.

“Nice to see you too, Frederick,” Will teased as the other man capped the nail polish with a huff and set it aside as Will leaned in, put his arms around his lover’s neck, and rested his chin on top of his head.

“I haven’t had a proper pedicure in months, Will. It is a travesty.”

“Well, when you’re supposedly the Chesapeake Ripper and as far as the public knows, wanted by the FBI you don’t get to just go out and get pedicures.”

“The FBI cleared me internally. When will they let the world know that I’m not actually a cannibalistic serial killer?” Frederick asked and Will tilted his head to press his cheek to the top of his lover’s tousled hair.

“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer and Frederick seemed to deflate in the face of it, his shoulders slouching as his head tipped forward and he stared at his lap.

“Do you want help painting your nails?” Will broke the morose silence that had fallen between them and smiled to himself when the offer seemed to get Frederick to perk up.

“Would you?”

Even though Will was accepting of Frederick for who he was, there were times that he still didn’t know how to react or act around the other man. They were both figuring out the dynamics of their relationship, and it was an interesting process that Will found he actually enjoyed.

“Yeah, then maybe you can paint mine. Just not pink.”

“Oh, I have a lovely shade of blue that would suit you well.”

Just like that, the sad tension from before was diffused. Will stepped away and stripped down to an undershirt and his boxers. He sat cross-legged on the couch and pulled one of Frederick’s feet into his lap, taking the offered bottle of nail polish and nail polish remover. Of course he didn’t have the most delicate touch, but Will applied the same amount of care to his lover’s toe nails as he would a crime scene. After he cleaned up the smeared bits he applied a coat of the rose pink polish and inspected his work when he was done.

“Will?” The tone of Frederick’s voice caught his attention and he looked up and immediately blushed at the look of utter adoration he found on the other man’s face. He could feel affection radiating off of Frederick in waves and shyly glanced away as he was overwhelmed by the other man’s point of view.

“Yeah?” Will leaned down and blew on the drying nail polish to give himself a bit of a distraction.

“I love you,” Frederick murmured and Will carefully set the other man’s foot on the ground, turned, and leaned up to press their lips together.

“You too,” Will answered and kissed him again.


	5. Daddy!Chilton Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frederick gives Will a break and soothes their daughter by speaking Spanish.

Will needs a break. Frederick sees it in the way he moves, how he tiredly lifts himself up from the couch to go check on the sleeping baby and in how he rubs his eyes. She was two weeks old, a tiny thing who had been born with dark, nearly black hair and pale skin. Frederick had been nervous, but Will was almost obsessive in the way he checked on her and fussed over her. It worries Frederick, which is why when Will comes back from checking on the baby he tells him to go walk the dogs. 

"What if she needs me?" Will asks almost immediately as he casts a glance in the direction of the cradle which was sitting beside the bed in the living room. They had decided, until she was older, to keep sleeping on the ground level so there weren’t stairs between them and the child at any time. Maybe they were both a little paranoid. 

"You know she has two parents, right?" Frederick replies and scowls a bit, but instantly feels guilty when Will flinches and gives him a look. "I might not have a lot of experience with children, but I’m certain I can make it through an hour or two with our daughter, Will. Go walk the dogs, they are restless." 

A few of the dogs were asleep, at least half of them sitting in close proximity to the baby’s cradle. Yet when the word ‘walk’ was spoken they all looked over and the energy in the room increased. 

"Fine," Will finally relents and Frederick reaches out to squeeze his hand and pulls him in for a soft kiss. The other man just sighs into it and Frederick figures it is the best he’s going to get. When Will pulls away and whistles for the dogs, all of them except Winston flock to his heels in a tide of wiggling, furry bodies. 

Winston remains sitting by the cradle, even when Will calls him by name, and eventually Will leaves with the rest of the pack. Frederick eyes the dog whose ears perk up under the attention. 

"Good boy," Frederick murmurs as he crosses the room and rests an affectionate hand atop Winston’s head, ruffling his fur. He peers at the sleeping infant and can’t help but smile because she looks so peaceful and he is in love. Some nights, when Will finally overcomes his anxiety and falls asleep, Frederick sits up at the edge of the bed and watches their daughter. He hadn’t ever expected to be a father since his career had taken such a huge chunk out of his life. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way he had found Will and his world had changed. 

He reaches down and draws his fingertip over her soft, round cheek. 

Her face crumbles, eyes open, and she begins crying. 

Suddenly Frederick feels like he is the worst person in the world as his daughter sticks her little fists up in the air and waves them around as she wails. He glances back at the door, suddenly regretting letting Will leave because so far in the two weeks of their daughter’s life he had been the one to soothe her when she cried. He looks back down at blue eyes filled with tears that suddenly squint shut as she cries harder. 

His first instinct is to pick her up, so he does, and cradles her against his chest even as she squirms. He begins to rock, but the movement doesn’t seem to soothe her. Frederick feels a sense of dread as he shushes her and wracks his brain for anything he could remember that had comforted him as a child. 

"Shh, Gabriela, hush. Please. It is okay," he murmurs as he tries to keep the panic out of his voice, "it is okay. Papa is here, see? I’m here." He strokes her arm and her hand curls tightly around one of his fingers as she squeezes it with all the strength a two week old baby can muster. Yet she continues crying and Frederick is at a loss. 

"Mija, silencio, por favor, mi amor," he lapses into Spanish because some part of his brain recalls his mother murmuring those same words to him when he was inconsolable. 

"Ay, Gabby, mi amor, que está bien. Todo está bien, ¿si? Su otro papá volverá pronto, prometo mija.” 

Her cries lessen and she peers up at him with wet blue eyes, tears staining her cheeks as she whimpers softly. He wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb, though he lifts her arm to do so since her fingers are still wrapped tightly around one of his own. 

“¿Ves? Que está bien.” He bounces her slightly in his arms and watches as her eyes slide shut. Eventually, as he walks with her around the house, her hand relaxes and he knows she’s fallen asleep. Carefully he lowers himself down onto the couch and leans back into the cushions, holding her as she sleeps. 

"My love, mi amor," he murmurs and glances up as Winston pads over and settles on the floor near the couch, watching over them dutifully.


	6. Rockabye - Daddy!Chilton Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Ciorane's art piece [HERE](http://ciorane.tumblr.com/post/87725377637/a-little-gift-for-drwillton-who-seems-to-spend)

It was his first time away from Will and the baby since they’d become parents. He hadn’t wanted to go to the conference but Will had insisted. The baby was five months old and he was certain he could handle her for two nights while Frederick spent the time in DC. Finally he’d relented, but it had been the two hardest nights of his life and he had spent both evenings on the phone with Will and the baby for as long as he could. 

When he arrived home he saw just how tired the other man was. The baby was in her high chair, pureed baby food all over her face as she cried. Will was in front of her, shoulders slouched, hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, trying to shush her. He looked up and there was relief in his eyes, mingled with anger and frustration which were both directed at Frederick. 

Frederick just shrugged, set down his bag, and pushed through the sea of dogs that had come to greet him. Will straightened up, his shirt splattered with baby food and mysterious wet spots, but even in his frustration he just looked exhausted. 

So Frederick pulled him into a hug and felt the other man relax. Will pressed his face into the curve of his neck and they stood there while the baby, who had quieted down, stared. Frederick made a face at her and she coo’ed and smiled. 

"Your daughter is ridiculous," Will grumbled as he squeezed Frederick around the waist before he stepped away. 

“My daughter? Must have been a rough two nights, then,” Will had definitely downplayed the situation on the phone, “did you get any sleep?” 

"No." There was something more to Will’s reply, Frederick’s guess was that any sleep he had gotten had been plagued with nightmares of the past, which certainly hadn’t helped his lover get any rest. He leaned in and stole a kiss from Will, stroking a thumb affectionately along his cheek. 

"Go rest. I’ll take care of her," Frederick insisted and raised his eyebrows when Will stared at him for a long moment before relenting. 

"I’m going to go shower." 

"Enjoy it. You can catch me up on the last two days later." He reached out, grabbed Will’s hand, and squeezed it gently as the other man walked by him and headed toward the shower. Then he turned to his daughter, a bright blue eyed baby with a head of thick dark hair and a round face. 

"Gabriela, you’ve driven him mad." Frederick teased but then frowned as her face dissolved and she began crying again. "Oh no, Gabby, mija," he picked her up out of the high chair and held her against one of his shoulders as he grabbed a washcloth. He wiped at her face even as she cried, managing to get off most of the food even though it seemed to upset her more. 

"Hush, my love," he whispered into her hair as he bounced slightly with each step, making his way to the living room. His movement seemed to calm her as her wails became soft, whining sounds which eventually turned into hiccups and sniffling. 

"That’s my girl," Frederick murmured as he tossed a pillow up to the head of the couch. He managed to struggle out of his suit jacket and kick off his shoes, shifting the baby around in his grasp to do so. Once he was a bit more comfortable he carefully settled onto the couch, leaning back against the pillow with his daughter held closely against his chest. Frederick reached behind him to grab the pacifier on the side table and offered it to the infant who accepted it and closed her eyes. 

Once they were settled in, he sang softly to his daughter and marveled at her. Gabriela’s face went lax as she finally gave into sleep, a tiny hand curling in the blanket Frederick pulled over them. He watched her for a time as he sang before he fell silent and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Even though he was half asleep he felt the couch sink near his feet and hummed when he felt Will’s hand creep under the leg of his trousers and rest with fingers splayed along his calf. 

Just like that, with his lover nearby and their daughter sleeping against his chest, Frederick slept comfortably for the first time in two nights.


	7. Just breathe - Hannigram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I can't breathe" "Look at me - just breathe, okay?" request by Hanni-babe on tumblr

Everything about him felt like it was on fire. From his head to his toes he was burning, every atom of his being alight with discomfort. Something about the crime scene had triggered him and sent him into a tailspin as the world around him faded in and out of focus. He’d driven part of the way but when the road began to bend in all the wrong places he pulled over, ditched his car, and made his way through the neighborhood to a very familiar doorstep. 

He was almost surprised that Hannibal answered. It had to be almost two in the morning, yet there the good doctor stood in his pretentious robe that blurred together with his skin as Will’s eyes merged the two. He was losing his connection with reality and swayed on his feet, grateful for Hannibal’s cool touch on his bare arms as the taller man steadied him and led him inside. 

Words were said, but Will couldn’t tune into them. It was as if the parts of his brain which processed sound had shut off for the time being in favor of attempting to keep him upright. Then his hearing surged back to him suddenly and Hannibal’s voice was loud in his ear. He blinked to clear his eyes and tried to focus on the other man’s face, only to realize his hands had curled into fists in Hannibal’s robe and he was clinging to him. 

"Will, you’re ill," Hannibal insisted as he brought a hand up to Will’s sweaty forehead and pressed it into the skin. It felt like a quiet stream on a sunny day and Will pressed into it, eyes sliding shut. He realized it was a mistake to close his eyes when images of the crime scene flashed before him; dead eyes staring up at him, calling to him, and he stood over them with a grim sense of pride and possession. He’d marked the girls as his, with slit throats and a star cut into their foreheads. They were his girls and no one would ever have made them as beautiful as he had. 

As the images came Will realized he was struggling to breathe. One of the girls in his mind had a hand pressed to his throat. 

"I can’t breathe," Will gasped as he released Hannibal’s robe to reach up to his own throat but his hands were pulled down to his sides as he was guided into a sitting position. The world, strangely enough, began to crash back down around him as the doctor’s gentle fingers pressed against his pulse. 

"Look at me - just breathe, okay?" Hannibal insisted as one hand rested on Will’s chin in order to force eye contact. "In, and then out. Feel it in your belly, let it push out and then relax. There."

Will felt a bit more grounded as he stared at Hannibal and obeyed his words. The other man’s hand once again rested against his forehead and then slid to the back of his neck. 

"You’re burning up, Will. I’ll fetch you a cold cloth and some water. Stay seated, right here, until I return." Hannibal squeezed his knee and left Will there for what seemed to him like an eternity before he returned and sat beside him. "Here, drink," he handed Will the glass and Will gulped it down, nearly choking because he suddenly felt patched. 

Then Hannibal pressed the cold cloth to his forehead and it felt heavenly against his heated, feverish skin. 

"Tonight you will remain here, with me. We will try to keep this fever in check and tomorrow you will see a doctor."

"You are a doctor," Will pointed out but sighed and closed his eyes when the other man gave him a look. "Okay." 

Hannibal had relaxed when Will next opened his eyes and he realized he’d never seen the doctor look so worn out. He reached over and grabbed a throw pillow and dropped it in Hannibal’s lap, which got him a look. However, he continued what he was doing and with the cloth pressed to his head he laid back so his head was resting on the pillow in the other man’s lap. Then he closed his eyes again and hummed when Hannibal ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. 

"Rest, Will," Hannibal murmured as his fingers tangled in Will’s curls and remained there. 

"Yeah," Will mumbled in return but he was already drifting, his mind and body both exhausted, "thanks, Hannibal."

"No thanks necessary, dear Will," Hannibal answered softly.


	8. You're not useless - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You're not useless" Chillywilly requested by somebodysavefrederickchilton on tumblr

The files were spread out across the desk in an empty classroom. Will had been pouring over them almost since he’d finished recovering. At one point he’d almost been convinced to give up and leave. He thought about moving to Florida and buying some property and hiding there with his dogs and his scars. Instead, somewhere along the way he’d picked up a fiery desire to find Hannibal Lecter. Except even with their relatively intimate relationship he had no idea where the other man was hiding.

“Where are you?” He asked the air as he stared at the worn, weary files. He had been through them a thousand times, had the pages memorized and marked up. There were news stories he thought were somehow related from various outlets. A thin file had been put together regarding the doctor’s history that gave him very little to go off of. Will Graham had nothing and in a fit of rage he ran his hands across the files and shoved them all into the air and onto the ground as his angry cry filled the room.

“Feel better?”

Will swung around and stared though his posture eased some when he realized it was just Frederick there, watching him with a concerned look in his eyes. He scowled to himself, angry that he’d been caught at such an immature moment, and turned back to stare at the now nearly bare table.

“No.”

“Pity. I don’t think rearranging the files is going to make you feel better, either.” Frederick approached, Will could hear the sound of the other man’s expensive shoes on the ground and hung his head slightly. He rested his hands on the edge of the table and leaned over it slightly, forcing his eyes shut for a moment.

When Frederick stopped behind him, the other man’s hands slid under his shirt and splayed warmly against his back. He shuddered under the touch and gripped the table a bit more tightly as he gave in to it. Frederick ran his hands slowly up further under his shirt before drawing his fingertips back down, pressing into various muscle groups as he did so, massaging them into submission.

“I’m useless,” Will grumbled and sighed as Frederick’s arms went around his waist and he was pulled back against the other man.

“You’re not useless,” Frederick insisted and pressed a kiss to Will’s neck, “you’re stressed. You’re overworked. You need a vacation. So let me take you away for a week, Will. We won’t have to think about Hannibal Lecter or the FBI or anything for an entire week.”

“I can’t leave for a week.”

“Hannibal Lecter will remain elusive whether you’re throwing files on the ground or are tanning at a resort with me. You’re not going to get anywhere if you work yourself to death, Will.”

“Okay.” Will gave in and turned his head to press his forehead to Frederick’s cheek.

“Wait, you’re agreeing?” Frederick sounded surprised, “I was expecting to have to fight more for it.”

“Do you want me to fight?”

“No, certainly not. I’m booking the tickets tonight.” Frederick squeezed will around the middle and nuzzled at his temple.

“I think I just changed my mind,” Will answered and Frederick pinched his side.

“No, no mind-changing. You’ve already agreed to it. This is happening. I’m going to go book the tickets right now, on my phone,” Frederick stepped away and pulled out his phone.

“Do I even get to ask where you’re whisking me off to?” Will inquired, his spirits improving by the minute.

“It will be a surprise, Will. You’ll love it. I swear.”

From the glitter in the other man’s eye, Will figured he’d love going to the middle of the desert if it meant being with Frederick.


	9. Mugging - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ihavearaccoonfact asked: Love your fics btw. So here's my prompt: Chilton goes to the theater to see a musical (by himself ;^;) on the way back he gets mugged at gun point Will a local FBI agent happens to be waking by and saves the day, Will sees Chilton again for psyc insight for his classes and they evidently start dating.

Frederick regretted choosing to attend a conference in New Orleans. It was August, hot, humid, and there were bugs everywhere. He swore there were mosquitoes in his hotel room that favored his blood because no one else at the conference seemed to be having the same issues that he was. The water was hard, his hair and skin felt constantly grimy, and even though the content of the conference was fantastic, it hardly out weighed the obvious hardship he was putting himself through. 

He had taken the night off from workshops and treated himself to a local production of Grease that had been great, except for the fact the air conditioning in the theatre was out and he had been sitting beside a large man who sweated profusely throughout the entire show and smelled a bit off. To top it all off, the typical Cajun cuisine he had been encouraged to try didn’t agree with him and he had felt equal parts hungry and bloated the entire evening.

Thankfully the thick, wet air outside the theatre was cooler than the air had been inside and he could breathe again. As he walked down the darkened street back toward his hotel, he thought he was finally in the clear. There were two more workshops he’d attend the next morning before flying home in the afternoon. He certainly looked forward to his air conditioned home and his soft, worn in 1000 thread count sheets instead of the stuffy hotel with itchy linens. 

"Bad luck, friend. Turn around and throw me your wallet." The voice came from behind him and Frederick immediately froze, his mind going blank for a minute. 

He turned and found a young man in a hoody with a gun pointed at him. The metal shined annoyingly in the streetlight as Frederick’s mind raced. 

"Reach into your back pocket, take out your wallet, throw it on the ground, and walk away or else I shoot you," the attempted mugger repeated as his lips curled into a scowl. 

"I’m afraid I am not really in a position to do that. I’d prefer not to be shot, but I also can’t be without my ID…" Frederick answered and flinched when the other man clicked the bullet into the chamber. 

"I’m not messing with you, dude. Hand it over or you get a bullet in your head." 

"Are you even aiming that thing properly? I mean, you have fired a gun before have you not?" Frederick laughed nervously and took a step backwards, "Do you think you could actually make a head shot? Not that I’m particularly interested in finding out, but…" 

Frederick turned and bolted away. The gun went off and the bullet ricocheted a few inches to the left of him. Apparently the young man couldn’t aim, or else it had been a warning shot. 

"Put down your gun!" He heard someone shout behind him, followed by three more gunshots not sent in his direction. Frederick, using terrible judgment, stopped running and looked back to find a police officer had shot the mugger in his shoulder and was in the process of slapping cuffs on him as he radioed it in. The mugger was shoved into the back of the patrol car before the officer spoke into the radio. 

"Yeah dispatch, this is Officer Graham," Frederick heard it as a breeze carried the officer’s voice down to him, but the rest was too garbled to make out. Slowly he approached the scene and ignored the trembling in his hands. His fear was almost instantly forgotten, however, when he saw blood oozing from the officer’s leg. 

"Jesus Christ, you’re hurt," Frederick stepped toward him and the officer raised his gun and aimed it at him. He stopped in his tracks and held up his hands, "I’m a doctor, I was about to be mugged, I appreciate you saving me but your leg is bleeding and I don’t hear sirens yet so if I could take a look…" Of course he remembered a bit too late that the sight of blood never sat well with him and he felt a bit queasy. 

The officer, Graham he’d said over the radio, evaluated him with a single look before he put his side arm away and finally grimaced. 

"Sit on the hood of your car," Frederick insisted as he put his arm around the officer’s waist and helped him limp over to it. Once the other man was situated, Frederick pulled out a key chain pocket knife he kept on his keys and cut open the officer’s work pants to reveal the gunshot. He grimaced. 

"So what kind of doctor are you?" Officer Graham asked, his voice tense. 

"A psychiatrist," he heard the other man make a startled noise, "but I know basic medicine, Officer. It went all the way through and appears to have missed any major arteries, so you should be alright. They’ll repair the soft tissue damage and stop the bleeding, but," Frederick pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around Graham’s thigh just above the wound, tying it tightly, "this should help." 

"You can call me Will instead of officer. It is the least I can do since I’m bleeding all over your nice suit." 

Frederick looked down and felt a tiny spark of irritation when he realized it was true. There were bright smears of blood on his jacket and trousers. He let it go. 

"You saved me, so it is the least I can do. I can always buy another suit," he glanced up at the other man and noticed in the dim light how Will’s eyes were a perfect mix of grey and blue. They were lovely and he wished the situation had been entirely different.

Finally he heard sirens approaching and smiled a bit, which Will mirrored. 

"You’ll be alright," Frederick insisted, trying to remember what it was like to have a good bedside manner. 

"I appreciate your vote of confidence." 

*

The next day, Frederick skipped lectures and showed up at Will’s hospital room with a teddy bear he’d picked up in the gift shop. Of course the officer was surprised to see him and accepted the bear with a laugh. 

"Thank you, Frederick. For the bear and your handkerchief. I’m afraid the hospital staff trashed it, though, after I bled all over it." Will glanced away and then looked down at the teddy bear as he ran his fingers through the soft fur. 

"Think nothing of it," Frederick hesitated and then produced a business card, "I don’t know if you’ll ever find yourself in Baltimore, but if you do…give me a call? I’d like to take you out for a drink." 

Will accepted the card with a soft smile that made Frederick feel very warm. 

"I’ll do that," Will glanced down at the bear and the card and then back to Frederick, "really. I look forward to it." 

"Take care, Officer Graham," Frederick answered as he felt warmth spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, "and give me a call. Really." 

With that, he turned and left the hospital room hoping very dearly to hear from the officer again sometime soon.


	10. Bookshop AU - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dazebras asked: ooooh, let's see. A ChillyWilly bookshop!AU drabble of their first meeting?
> 
> Sequel [HERE](http://dazebras.tumblr.com/post/87471797732/fly-fishing-for-rdlenix)

The book store is his oasis in the midst of hectic weeks. It was tucked away in the heart of Baltimore but stepping through the doors was like entering another universe. Amidst the bookcases and worn leather reading chairs, Frederick always felt like he had been transported back to a simpler time. There were no patients to diagnose, no incident reports to review, and he didn’t have to sit in front of a computer to hash out the quarterly budget. No, there were just books and within each of them was a realm he could escape into and be at peace for a little while.

He’d become friends with the owner, an elderly man who employed a few kids from the neighborhood but worked most of the hours himself. He had a kind, wrinkled face, thick white hair that was always combed back, and a fatherly disposition that Frederick craved. When he didn’t tuck himself away in the back of the store to read, he would talk with the owner and absorb any advice he could give. At one point he’d been asked to work there in the evenings, since he spent so much time pouring over books he was too embarrassed to buy and purchasing just about every psychologically relevant text that hit the shelves.

Of course he’d politely refused, but Frederick still enjoyed helping out whenever one of the youngsters called in sick and it was just the owner working.

One evening, after a particularly stressful day, he snagged one of the books he had been reading off of the shelf and retreated to the back of the store. There was a large, plush leather arm chair and he liked to curl his legs under himself and settle in to read. When he was engrossed in a book the rest of the world faded away, so he barely realized his name was being called until John, the owner, poked his head around the corner and called out to him again.

“Frederick?”

“Hmm?” Frederick stuck a bookmark in the book and shut it as he looked up at John.

“I’ve got a gentleman here who is looking for books on fly fishing, which will be upstairs. Would you mind showing him? I’m trying to fix the register.”

“Of course,” Frederick replied and unfolded himself from the chair. He left the book resting on the seat and strode toward the front of the store. As he did it, the man he was supposed to help rounded the corner and they physically slammed into each other. With a startled noise, Frederick stumbled backwards but was kept upright by a hand on his wrist and another on his elbow as he was pulled into the other man’s space.

“Are you alright?”

Frederick huffed a bit and glanced down at his feet, which were firmly on the ground again, before he looked at the man who had kept him from falling. His cheeks immediately reddened when he realized just how close they were standing. He could feel heat radiating off of the other man who watched him with curious blue eyes. The man was handsome, with the start of a beard on his cheeks and thick, wavy hair.

“Uh,” Frederick realized he’d forgotten how to speak as he stood there like a deer in the headlights. “Yes, goodness, yes, I’m fine. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…this is such a blind corner, isn’t it? Ah, so, what was it you were looking for?” He tried very hard not to look at the other man’s lips.

“Books on fly fishing, or even fishing in general. I was told they were upstairs?” The man smiled kindly and squeezed Frederick’s elbow before releasing him. Frederick took a couple steps backwards and finally seemed to catch his breath again.

“Yes, please, follow me. My name is Frederick, by the way,” he smiled nervously and made his way to the stairs, glancing behind only to make sure the nameless man would follow.

“Pleasure, Frederick. My name is Will.”

They ascended the stairs together and Frederick led the way to the far right of the upstairs portion of the store. A lot of the less popular genres were stashed upstairs because John sometimes had trouble getting up to the second floor, so it saved him a trip if there wasn’t anyone around to help most of the time.

“Here, this is where you’ll find them,” Frederick motioned to the small section of outdoor sporting books, “I’m afraid we don’t have a huge selection. Baltimore isn’t exactly a hot spot for fishermen.”

“That’s alright. I don’t have anything particular in mind, anyway. I just thought I’d see what you had,” Will replied and offered Frederick another gentle smile. There was something about the man that peaked Frederick’s curiosity. It took a trained eye, but in the time it took them to climb up the stairs, Will had assumed a different posture and tone of voice. He’d shifted, almost as if to mimic Frederick, and he wondered if it was intentional.

“I take it you fish, then?” Frederick pushed his observations to the back of his mind.

“Yeah, a bit. You?” Will glanced at him before looking back to the books.

“No. I don’t think I’ve ever been fishing, to be honest. I’d probably slip and drown. The fish would catch me,” he laughed and looked down at the ground, uncertain as to why he suddenly felt so warm.

“I’m sure I could keep you from drowning,” Will answered, “I kept you from falling earlier, after all.”

His cheeks reddened at the thought as he glanced shyly back up at the other man.

“Perhaps I’d try if I knew that.” The words left Frederick’s mouth before he realized how flirty they sounded and he tried to choke down the sudden wave of anxiety he felt.

“Maybe you should come fishing with me sometime, then.” Will said it as if it weren’t a big deal, as if they weren’t complete strangers who had just met a few moments before. He picked out one of the books, flipped through it while Frederick watched, then turned to him.

“I’ll take this one, I think. And I’m serious about coming fishing with me sometime,” Will reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card to hand to Frederick, “here. If you’re interested.”

Frederick glanced down and laughed because the business card boasted a fly fishing company and Will was apparently an instructor.

“You’re a fly fishing instructor?” Frederick asked and suddenly felt miserably embarrassed for even thinking that Will was remotely interested in him.

“I am, but for you? I’d give free lessons.” Will walked past him and paused when he was next to Frederick. He rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, “because I think you’re cute, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Frederick was frozen in place as Will chuckled and continued walking. He listened to the other man descend the stairs and then waited for the tell tale sound of a bell ringing to tell him the man had left. Then Frederick stared down at the business card and grinned.


	11. Don't fucking touch me - Bevlana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> madnizilla asked: "Don’t fucking touch me." and Bevlana/Kabloom, if you feel like it? c:

"Alana-"

"Don’t fucking touch me!" Alana snapped as she slapped away Beverly’s hand, her body trembling. She felt like she was rippling, as if every cell in her body was alive with an electrical current and something would come ripping out of her skin. They were at Beverly’s apartment. Alana had spent the night and they were initially curled together in bed until she’d been rocked awake by a nightmare. It was about Hannibal, it always was about him. His touch, his voice, his soft whispers during love making turning into an eerie be blind, Alana.

Then Abigail stands in front of her and shoves her out of a window. Yet instead of falling and hitting the ground she just falls eternally, surrounded by shattered, shimmering glass and a sense of panic.

She usually wakes up screaming, but this is the first time she’d woken up from a nightmare with someone at her side. It was understandably jarring because the image of Beverly and Hannibal merged and all she could see were his bloody hands reaching for her and all she heard was his voice telling her to be blind.

After she slapped away Beverly’s comforting hand she’d retreated to the corner of the room, dressed in only her panties and an oversized shirt she’d dug out of the other woman’s drawer. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank down to the floor. When Beverly approached this time she looked up through tear filled eyes and thankfully didn’t see Hannibal. She just saw the concerned face of her friend-turned-lover watching her carefully, reading her.

"Bev?" Alana whispered brokenly and sobbed when the other woman dropped to her knees, sidled up beside her, and wrapped her arms around her. She leaned against Beverly and tucked her head under her friend’s chin, fingers sliding beneath the shirt Bev was wearing in order to touch warm skin and feel grounded.

"You’re going to be alright, Alana," Beverly whispered into her hair as she rubbed a hand up and down her back soothingly, "I promise you’ll be alright."


	12. Please I just really need space right now - Winston/Buster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Please I just… really need space right now." Winston/Buster (thats the small boxer Will owns)
> 
> I went for it guys. I went for it.

Buster had done it. He’d finally gone too far. They’d had an agreement. Together they had buried a stash of treats and other treasures in the backyard away from the other members of the pack. It had been their special treasure trove, but Buster had led Applesauce right to it. He’d done it to show off, he knew it. Just like master tried to get Applesauce’s owner attention, so Buster was trying to catch the eye of Applesauce. It wasn’t fair.

They’d had something special.

So the moment master let him out into the yard to pee, Winston hurried over to the remnants of their buried treasure which had been picked apart by the rest of the pack. All that was left was a chewed up toy bunny that he and Buster had played tug-o-war with many times under the soft light of the moon. He gingerly picked it up and then jerked his head around wildly, channeling all his anger into the movement of killing something that was already dead.

Then he heard a soft whine and turned to see Buster standing there, his little stub of a tail wagging. Winston dropped the rabbit, stood over it, and then snarled. He made sure to work his posture into a position that said to the other dog, please I just…really need space right now. Buster took a few steps back and lowered his head with yet another whine and Winston almost felt bad, but he held his ground and growled again. The hair along the back of his neck and at his rump stood on end as he stared down his friend who had so greatly wronged him.

While Buster backed up even further, Winston snorted, picked the rabbit up in his mouth and turned. He trotted away with his head held proudly and made his way back into the house and to his master. Buster had a long way to go before he’d earn his way back into his good graces.


	13. I'm gonna be sick - Hannigram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night at the opera ends in an overwhelmed Will Graham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for anonymous in response to: Hannigram - "I'm gonna be sick"

The crowded opera set Will on edge. His pulse buzzed just beneath his skin as sweat wet the back of his neck. Beneath his tux his undershirt was soaked with sweat as his nerves got the best of him. Hannibal had gone off to talk to some head of a company and stood about ten feet away from Will. That left him alone, an island in a sea of people, the drink in his hand perspiring as it remained untouched.

Of course he wanted to enjoy the opera and to be honest, the performance part of it wasn’t nearly as boring as he had anticipated. However, the socializing afterward drew him quickly toward his cap on social interaction for the day. His mind couldn’t handle the buzzing emotions of all of the people around him. There was the disgruntled sister who watched from afar as her older brother, who had received some sort of benefit after their parent’s passing, talk amicably with a group of gentlemen. He could sense the loneliness radiating off of the husband whose eyes were glazed over where he stood next to his bubbling wife. For every person, his empathy kicked in and from a single look he began to put together their stories.

He nearly jumped out of his own skin when a cool hand rested against the back of his neck. With a hard swallow he glanced at Hannibal who watched him with curious yet concerned maroon eyes.

"Would you like to leave, Will?" Hannibal’s thumb stroked against his flushed neck affectionately.

"Yes, shit, Hannibal, I’m gonna be sick if we don’t get out of here," his stomach roiled uncomfortably as he pressed close to his lover. In a room full of emotions, Hannibal was a breath of fresh air because he was a blank slate. His carefully constructed mask kept a barrier between he and Will which the younger man appreciated when they were in public. He could focus on Hannibal and the world would right itself.

"On moment, beloved," Hannibal brushed his lips gently against Will’s temple as he took the glass from his hands and stepped away to discard it. For a moment Will fidgeted awkwardly and held his breath until Hannibal’s hand rested against his lower back and led him toward the door.

"Hannibal!" A shrill cry came from the crowd as a flamboyantly dressed woman approached, "oh you can’t be leaving so soon."

"I’m afraid I must. My partner and I are very tired. We will have to talk some other day," Hannibal insisted and just like that dismissed the woman who appeared to be put out. Will’s sense of politeness caused him a moment of pause before he gave in to his lover’s guidance and stepped out of the building.

In the cool of the night his mind was empty and he closed his eyes to inhale the crisp evening air.

"I’m sorry," the words fell from his lips before he could stop them, and anything more he would say was silenced by a chaste kiss.

"That is unnecessary, Will. I had a wonderful time," Hannibal murmured as he slipped his arm around Will’s waist and pulled their bodies together as he indulged in another kiss.

Will let it happen because with every touch his anxiety faded until everything was Hannibal and he was okay.


	14. Please put it DOWN - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to an anonymous prompt: Chillywilly - "Please, put it DOWN"

"Please, put it DOWN," Frederick insisted in the dark of night, hands up in the air as he stared down the business end of Will’s handgun.

"Frederick?" Will asked as his vision cleared and his hands began to shake. In the middle of the night the other man had gotten up and in the process woke Frederick. He’d picked up his handgun and prowled toward the door. Of course Frederick had followed, worry coursing through him as his heart pounded against his chest. What was he supposed to do about a sleep walking man with a gun?

"Hi, baby," the word felt strange on his tongue, but oddly appropriate for the scenario, "Will, you’re safe. You’re in your house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. The dogs are all here, I’m here. You’re okay, right?"

He counted it a victory when Will set the gun on the coffee table and took a few shaky steps toward Frederick.

"I was sleep walking," he murmured and Frederick nodded.

"You were sleep walking, but now you’re awake."

"I thought," he glanced back at the door, "someone was out there. I knew it. I didn’t know who it was I just felt like there was someone out there I needed to kill."

Frederick stepped into Will’s space and put his arms around the other man in a firm embrace. When Will’s forehead dropped to his shoulder and the other man sagged against him, he just buried his fingers in his lover’s sweaty curls and held him close.

"You’re okay, I promise," Frederick whispered into his ear as Will trembled against him.


	15. Righteous Indignation - Hannigram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets out of prison and pays Hannibal a visit. It goes differently than written in the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday gift for Madnizilla over on tumblr!

Will stood in the kitchen with a gun pointed at Hannibal’s head and the doctor merely stared. Yet just beneath his clever person suit his body was ablaze with passion. He had set the wheels into motion so long ago, or so it seemed. Now, the result of his work stood before him in a trembling, righteous rage and he fed off of the energy. It radiated off of Will, wrapped itself around Hannibal, and fulfilled a dark part of the doctor who desired to see the other man break and come back as something completely new.

Caught in each other’s gravitational pull there was nowhere else to go for either of them and as Will stepped closer, Hannibal’s heart hammered against his chest. Yet breathing came easily and other than his excited pulse he revealed nothing else about the excitement boiling up just beneath the surface. Will needed to make the first move and Hannibal, ever the strategist, would hold out just a little bit longer to allow it.

There was a spark of disappointment when Will put the gun away, though it was easily buried beneath the desire that welled up within him as the other man stared at him. Somehow, the confines of prison had allowed Will to build his own mask, his own people suit designed to hide his normally expressive eyes behind a veil that Hannibal wished to penetrate. Yet the wheels were spinning behind the other man’s stormy blue eyes and there was no doubt in Hannibal’s mind that he would get exactly what he wanted.

Will tensed, his body rigid, caught in the moment before a movement. Forward, backward, which direction would he go? If Hannibal had it his way it would be forward into his space, into his arms, submitting to his influence. Though a part of him wanted to continue the pursuit, to chase and hunt Will down until he submitted by the force of his hand. Strangely enough neither of those things happened, not precisely, and Hannibal quietly praised the universe for giving him an unpredictable partner.

He ended up on the ground, knees slamming into the linoleum. Will had shoved him and in the process, put his foot out so Hannibal’s usual grace was rendered useless. Instead of choosing a direction for himself, Will had chosen one for Hannibal. So Hannibal rolled onto his back and ignored the ache he felt through his body from impact as he stared up lustfully at Will. There was no point in making an attempt to hide his desire at that point because the deal had been struck, Will had been tempted, Hannibal was known and his plans were understood.

From somewhere deep in his belly there was a flutter at the thought that another human being finally understood.

In a flash, Will dropped down to his knees and straddled Hannibal’s hips. His fingers tore hastily at the buttons of Hannibal’s jacket. Then the vest and shirt beneath it as the pieces of fabric were pushed away from his body. Hannibal allowed it, even though he grimaced as he watched a couple buttons pop off and roll away. Thoughts of buttons and ruined clothes immediately vanished from his mind as Will’s hot mouth pressed against his pulse. For a moment, Hannibal tensed and shifted his weight to try and turn the tables. Except Will caught on and pressed a hand down on his throat, pinning him to the ground. He applied pressure and Hannibal coughed and swallowed around the hand, staring up at Will helplessly.

“This is my game now,” Will growled and Hannibal admired the way the minimal lighting in the room played off of the other man’s features and made him look downright menacing.

Hannibal rested his head back against the ground and relaxed his body, a sign of submission, and as a reward Will smashed their mouths together in a bruising kiss. It drew a primal sound from the depths of Hannibal’s very being as he viciously kissed back. His lower lip was caught between Will’s teeth as the other man bit down and sucked, worrying the lip until it was swollen and Hannibal could taste the tang of copper in his mouth.

Will had bitten him hard enough to bleed. His heart swelled with affection.

He reached up to touch Will but his hands were pushed to the ground above his head and pinned as their hips were slotted together. When Will rolled his hips, Hannibal moaned encouragingly into the profiler’s mouth and pushed his hips up in response. The sensation was marvelous and Will thankfully did it again. He tilted his head back and bared his throat to the man above him, breaking the kiss to do so but finding the trade off delightful as Will’s teeth sank into his skin and sent a spark of pain partnered with a shudder through Hannibal’s body.

Every bite and touch of Will’s lips on his skin fueled his arousal and the outline of his cock was obvious through the thin fabric of his trousers. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the cold sting of metal against the flushed skin of his wrists until his hands were already cuffed together.

“Will?” He asked, tone devoid of fear and brimming with curiosity. Certainly he wasn’t about to be arrested, so he was curious about the other man’s end game.

“Doctor Lecter,” Will murmured as he lapped at the bite mark which would be a reminder of their reunion for days to come. Then Will shifted up and Hannibal shuddered violently when the other man’s lips pressed against the fresh scars on his wrists.

He jerked a bit under the touch and tried to focus on the fact Will’s arousal was almost eye level instead of the odd sensation of his friend’s tongue lapping at his healing wounds. They were wounds Will had inflicted and more precious marks to Hannibal than any other the man could make. Yet the attention brought back memories of being strung up and forced to precariously balance on an overturned bucket while being bled like a pig, and he had to shake his head to chase them away. That was when Will’s slid back down his body and their lips were pressed together again. Hannibal ached to run his hands through the other man’s curls, but he remained restrained on the floor and let Will have his way.

“I’m sorry,” Will whispered into his ear after he’d trailed kisses along Hannibal’s cheek bone, “I shouldn’t be, but I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize,” Hannibal replied very firmly, though it tapered into a gasp when Will pressed his palm against the hard length of him, “turnabout is fair play. I let your remarkable brain burn, you let me bleed out.”

“I’m still sorry,” Will insisted as he unbuttoned the doctor’s trousers and stuck his hand down the front of them, fingers wrapping around Hannibal’s cock.

“Do not be sorry, my dear Will,” Hannibal answered breathlessly as he pushed his hips up into Will’s hand and groaned.

It took a bit of shifting around but soon Will had his aching cock out in the open. The younger man stroked it firmly, slowly, and leaned in to steal a warm kiss. Hannibal took the chance to brush their tongues together and marveled at the soft, breathy moan he got in return. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity as Will’s hand moved over him. Finally, the other man’s wonderful mouth left his and traveled along his jaw, leaving wet kisses in its wake. He finally settled at Hannibal’s bare shoulder and tightened his grip on his cock. As he stroked the doctor, he bit down hard and all Hannibal saw was white as he cried out in surprise. His hips jerked up and he felt hot come splash against his stomach.

He shuddered with every stroke as Will worked him through his orgasm.

There was blood, Hannibal could smell it, and it made the entire situation all the more euphoric. The sharp scent of copper and iron mixed with Will’s deeper, earthy scent and the smell of their combined arousal left him blissed out and panting beneath the other man. Will pressed their lips together and Hannibal tasted his own blood, eagerly accepted the offering, and even opened his mouth to allow Will to smear some of his own come against his tongue before kissing him again.

Then, Will’s warmth was gone as the other man stood and straightened out his clothes, leaving Hannibal on the floor half naked with his spent cock resting against his stomach.

“Will?” Hannibal asked much like he had earlier and he tugged at the handcuffs, listened to them rattle and hoped it would catch the other man’s attention.

Will just gave him an amused look and licked his lips thoughtfully.

“I think, doctor Lecter, I like seeing you completely at your wits end for a little while. This look suits you.” Then Will walked off and Hannibal heard the main door shut and the other man’s car starting soon after.

He turned to press his flushed cheek against the cold linoleum and smiled. Will would be back.

This was just the beginning.


	16. Mija - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Frederick have a daughter who is scared of monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Your OTP sleeping with their child between them.

“Papa?”

He was so used to her voice that Frederick immediately blinked awake and peered over the edge of the bed straight into the eyes of a two and a half year old. Behind her stood a small gaggle of dogs, keeping guard over the child.

“Mija,” Frederick mumbled in reply, “why aren’t you in your bed?”

“I was scared, papa. I think there is a monster in my closet and under my bed and outside and I was scared,” tears brimmed in her bright blue eyes as she clutched her stuffed dog close to her chest. “The doggies they tried to keep the monster gone but I am scared papa.”

“Mi amor, ¡ven aquí!” He held out his arms to the toddler and helped her climb up onto the bed.

Beside him, Will stirred.

“Frederick?” The other man murmured, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Daddy,” their toddler whined as she wedged herself between them. Will, still with his eyes closed, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.

“Gabby, you should be in bed,” Will pointed out as he brushed a kiss to her forehead and finally opened his eyes to peer at Frederick over the top of their daughter’s head.

“I was scared, daddy,” she answered. Frederick rolled over and leaned in to kiss the top of their little girl’s head.

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to stay here and let us guard against the monsters tonight.”

Frederick admired the easy way the other man handled their daughter. At times, he felt at a loss. Half the parenting books said toddlers need to sleep in their own bed and face their fears, the other half state just the opposite. He could get so wrapped up in the psychology of a child that he would simply forget that sometimes a child just needs her parents regardless of what the literature says.

Somehow Will gets it and it makes Frederick fall all the more in love with him.

When he realized his lover was staring at him he flushed and glanced down at Gabby who had fallen asleep almost immediately. He reached up and ran his fingers through her soft hair, only to have Will reach out, grab his hand, and lace their fingers together.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep,” Will insisted.

“Te amo, mi corazón,” Frederick brought their joined hands up so that he could press a kiss to the back of Will’s hand.

They settled in again and fell asleep like that, buffers against the monsters of the world; protecting the one thing that meant the most to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably translate the Spanish yourselves but.
> 
> Mija = my daughter/my girl/term of endearment for a young girl (typically a daughter/granddaughter)
> 
> Mi amor, ¡ven aquí! = My love, come here!
> 
> Te amo, mi corazón = I love you, my heart (term of endearment; not sure if they use it in Cuba but I could not find Cuban specific terms of endearment so you get a general Spanish one


	17. Migraine - Bevlana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana has a migraine and Bev comes to help her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Madnizilla who wasn't feeling well!

Alana cancelled her appointments early in the day. The migraine was already settling in and she knew she wouldn’t be able to do her clients any good anyway. She listened sympathetically as Gene Stinson acted like her cancellation was the end of the world before politely ending the call with a promise to meet with him the following week. By the time she finished her fifth and final call, the dull throb behind her eyes had developed into something that was nearly unbearable.

With calls out of the way she hid away in her room and dropped onto the bed. The darkness soothed her aching head and she lay down and dramatically dragged a pillow onto her face. The last thing she needed was a migraine in the middle of a work week and she knew she’d hear it from Jack if he needed her for something. Yet there she was, her stomach churning and head pounding as she fell into an uneasy sleep.

She jolted awake and knew someone was in the room. Her eyes darted to the door and she let out a loud sigh when she realized it was Beverly standing there with her hands up.

"Don’t shoot," she said playfully, though Alana could see the concern written on her features.

"You let yourself in."

"You gave me a key, remember?" Beverly approached the bed and sat on it with her legs curled under her. She reached out and pressed a hand to Alana’s forehead. Her skin was cool and felt marvelous, so Alana leaned into the touch with a soft whine.

"What made you come?"

"You didn’t answer your phone. I called your office and your secretary said you called in sick. I heard Jack bitching about it to anyone who would listen."

"Great," Alana groaned and almost pulled away, but Beverly’s hand carded affectionately through her hair as the other woman leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry, you probably didn’t need that much information. What can I do?"

"Rub my shoulders?"

"Only if you take off your shirt," Beverly shot back flirtatiously.

Without another word, Alana removed her shirt and gave Beverly an expectant look.

"Turn over," Beverly instructed even as her eyes wandered over Alana’s bare torso. Alana complied and settled on her stomach with her face buried in the pillow.

Beverly’s weight settled over her hips comfortingly as the other woman’s hands began working into the tense muscles all along her back and shoulders. Her fingers expertly sought out the trouble spots and soothed them away. Alana whined, arching into some of the touches while flinching away from others.

Eventually they fell into a rhythm and Alana relaxed beneath her lover’s steady hands dancing across her back. Soon, lips joined fingertips and left a warm trail down her spine. Beverly kissed along her ribs and hummed against her skin as her hands continued to smooth over her back. She was nearly asleep when Beverly’s teeth nipped gently at the shell of her ear.

“Bev,” she mumbled, feeling better than she had all week, “you’re a miracle worker.”

“I know,” Beverly answered as she nuzzled affectionately at Alana’s temple, brushing a kiss to flushed skin. Alana rolled onto her back and turned her head to catch the other woman’s lips in a kiss and shivered when Beverly’s fingertips teased down along her stomach.

They lay together and kissed for a time and exchanged slow presses of lips and gentle touches.

“Go to sleep, Alana,” Beverly insisted as she settled against Alana’s side and draped an arm across her waist.

“I love you, Bev.”

She rested one of her hands on Beverly’s arm and turned her head to glance at the other woman. Some of her hair fell into her face and Beverly used her free hand to brush it back and tuck it behind her ear.

“I love you too Alana, but you should still go to sleep.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I should be.”

Alana smiled and Beverly mirrored it. Reluctant to let the moment go, she fought sleep for a moment longer until her lover poked her in the ribs and she got the point. With a huff she rested her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Beverly’s warmth and weight lulled her to sleep.


	18. Good boy - Hannibal/Frederick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frederick falls into Hannibal.

The way Hannibal touches him sets him on edge. 

It starts at a dinner where Alana is present. He’s asked to help out in the kitchen and does so willingly. As he whips the cream that will top the odd, pretentious pudding based dessert Hannibal is putting the final touches on, he notices the way the other man crowds his space. He admires the subtly but notices it anyway, when Hannibal leans past him to grab something and brushes his hand over Frederick’s hip. Of course it happens again, this time when the taller man leans over his shoulder to look at his work and inhales. Frederick’s certain Hannibal smelled him but says nothing and ignores the tingle the other man’s warm breath against his neck sends down his spine. 

He jerks off to the thought of Hannibal’s touch after he gets home, his cock aching long before he could get his clothes of. 

The next time is a week later when it is just he and Hannibal together. Frederick is admiring a new art piece up on the wall in the den, wine in one hand with his other hand shoved in his pocket. He’s already feeling the buzz from too much wine and not enough to eat. He rarely gets the chance to eat on busy days and tries to remember his last meal only to realize he’d last eaten a quick breakfast from the cafeteria. 

No wonder his vision begins to blur after his second glass. It obscures the painting which becomes fuzzy lines of blue and green streaking across a canvas. This time Hannibal does little to hide the touch as Frederick becomes unsteady in his presence and the other man holds him steady with a hand on his shoulder and another on his lower back. 

“You haven’t eaten today have you,” he observes and Frederick shrugs, leaning into his colleague’s side. He’ll blame it on the alcohol later. 

“Breakfast. I suppose I didn’t have the time.” 

Hannibal guides him to the kitchen where he leaves Frederick leaning against the counter and slides him a plate. Frederick eats, more slowly than he wants to because the moment he smells the food he wants to scarf it all down, and ignores the way Hannibal watches him. 

“No table tonight?” He asks because it is strange for him to be partaking in such an extravagant meal standing at the bar counter in the kitchen. 

“Perhaps another time,” Hannibal answers and stands close. Frederick doesn’t mind. 

It is a little weird the next day when lunch is delivered. Along with the vegetable curry there is a note written in fountain pen in Hannibal’s hand. 

Since you cannot seem to appropriately feed yourself, I have seen to it myself. –Hannibal

Their arrangement continues, without Frederick fully understand what is happening. He ends up at Hannibal’s dinner table more often than not and is always impressed with the number of new, completely vegetarian recipes the other man concocts. When he’s not having dinner with Hannibal, a wide eyed young man delivers meals to his office either from respectable restaurants in the area or Hannibal’s own kitchen. Frederick eats, and strangely enough he feels more alert and dreads fewer days. 

“Hannibal,” he decides to bring up the subject after he’s had a few glasses of wine, “you must stop sending me food. It is wholly unnecessary.” 

Hannibal does not look away from the fire. The way the flames dance in his eyes both fascinate and intimidate Frederick. 

“Unnecessary, perhaps, but I enjoy doing it.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Don’t you?”

Frederick’s heart flutters as he stares at his wine glass. Silence stretches between them and weighs on Frederick like wet fabric. 

“What would it mean?” Frederick breaks the silence. 

“You will eat the food I prepare without questioning it. You will accept gifts, if I have them for you. In return, I merely want your cooperation. I want you to allow me to do this for you.” 

“Will I warm your bed?” The words rush out of him before he can grab hold and pull them back. If his cheeks weren’t already flush from the wine, they certainly would have been by that point. When he’s met with silence once more he shyly looks away from his wine glass and watches.   
Hannibal stands, slowly and deliberately. He set his wine glass aside and takes Frederick’s away, too. 

Then there’s a hand around his throat and he panics. His own hands fly up as he scratches at Hannibal’s but the other man’s second hand runs soothingly through his hair. 

“Do you want to warm my bed, Frederick?” Hannibal asks as he eases up on Frederick’s throat but maintains his hold. 

“Yes,” Frederick gasps and closes his eyes as tears gather at the corners. Hannibal’s thumb gently wipes them away.

As quickly as it had come, Hannibal’s hand was gone. When he opens his eyes he sees the other man observing him thoughtfully, a perfect picture of calm as he waits for Frederick to move. He does. He stands, shakily, and wobbles a bit as the wine goes straight to his head. Hannibal is there, though, right at his side and the other man holds him steady. They make it to the bedroom and Frederick stands near the foot of the bed as the realization of what is about to happen sets in. 

His heart hammers against his chest and he hears blood pumping in his ears. Suddenly he remembers everything that is wrong with him. From his head to his toes he knows he’s a picture of a lonely middle aged man and the thought nearly breaks him.

“You will tell me your thoughts, especially when they drag you away from this moment,” Hannibal instructs from somewhere to his left and Frederick shakes his head. The pain shocks him when Hannibal’s fingers dig harshly into the back of his neck and hold him like one would hold a misbehaving dog. It rips a needy whimper from Frederick’s throat as his head is forcefully tilted back and Hannibal’s mouth presses against his pulse. 

“Tell me your thoughts or this ends,” Hannibal warns, his voice vibrating against Frederick’s skin.

“I’m pathetic,” Frederick whispers and expects punishment but instead receives a gentle press of lips against his jaw, “god, Hannibal, you’re going to get my clothes off and balk and everything will come crashing to a halt because I am not desirable.” 

“Strip.”

The single word hangs between them before it sinks in. Everything seems to be suspended in time and space as Frederick makes his decision. Hannibal’s grip on the back of his neck eases and Frederick steps away, his back turned to the other man as he begins to shakily unbutton his undershirt. When he shrugs it off of his shoulders there are warm hands against his back and stares at a spot on the floor. He unbuttons the fly of his slacks and with a soft whisper they fall down around his ankles. 

He kicks off his shoes and manages to struggle out of his socks using only his feet before he pushes the slacks away. Left in his boxers he hesitates and makes a surprised noise when Hannibal guides him across the room so that they are standing in front of a mirror. At first he refuses to look, eyes darting everywhere but to the mirror. Then Hannibal’s hand rests on his chin and forces him to look. 

“What do you see?”

When he stares at his own reflection he immediately looks at his scar. It is there on his belly, a long, raised streak of red against pale flesh. Hannibal touches his hip and then squeezes in warning, reminding him the other man required an answer. 

“A scarred man,” Frederick replies, though his eyes widen when Hannibal’s hand moves to the front of his boxers. 

“You are more than your scars,” Hannibal whispers into his ear as he rubs him through the thin fabric of his underwear. Frederick is stiff at first but eventually leans back against the other man’s solid frame and rests the back of his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. He turns his head and shyly presses his nose into the curve of his friend’s throat and inhales. Hannibal smells like heat, wine, and spices. It warms him, comforts him, and he rests in it as he pushes his hips into the other man’s attentions. 

“Keep looking, Frederick,” Hannibal insists after a long moment and when Frederick looks back at the mirror he inhales sharply. He’s flushed from his cheekbones down to his collarbone. His eyes are a hazy mix of green and blue with blown black pupils in the center. Frederick’s skin is slicked with sweat from a mix of wine and his current companion. Suddenly the scar isn’t the focus, his arousal is, clearly outlined in his trousers. 

“Oh my god, Hannibal,” Frederick stares openly at himself and then meets the other man’s gaze in the mirror. Hannibal has a thoughtful look on his face as he draws out Frederick’s cock and strokes it once. His hips buck and he turns and buries his face in the curve of his friend’s neck. Not quite sure what to do with his hands, he reaches up with one to touch Hannibal’s jaw but it is grabbed before he can and held behind his back. 

“This is not about me,” Hannibal reminds him, “not tonight.” His hand continues to stroke up and down along Frederick’s dick. 

Frederick flexes the fingers of one hand in Hannibal’s grip and then reaches up to hold onto the man’s bicep with another. It gives him a bit more leverage and he pushes his hips into Hannibal’s tight hand and groans.

“I see a man who adapts and survives,” Hannibal whispers into his hair, “even when someone takes something away you come back fighting.” 

The words stroke his ego and fuel his burning pleasure just as much as Hannibal’s hand on his dick. He arches his hips and groans into Hannibal’s skin as the other man continues to work him in his hand. Every nerve in his body responds to the sensations and he digs his fingertips harder into Hannibal’s arm as he holds on for dear life. 

“Look back at the mirror,” Hannibal commands and Frederick obeys. He stares slack jawed at the creature he had become in his friend’s hands. He is a canvas painted in reds, pinks, and pale peach. With every stroke his arms flex and his body jerks. His cock is hard, the tip leaking and Hannibal’s thumb gathers up the fluid and drags it down the underside of him. The noise it draws out of Frederick is guttural and not altogether human, at least to his own ears, but nothing about the moment seems to be from earth. 

Hannibal is a painter and he is the creation. He’s beautiful. 

“Hannibal, I’m going to come,” Frederick whines breathlessly as he tilts his head back and exposes his throat. As he had hoped, Hannibal presses his lips to his bared throat and begins the process of marking him. It will be there for the world to see in the morning, a dark, bruising purple hickey that he thinks he won’t even try to cover up. The moment he begins to tip toward orgasm, Hannibal’s hand stills and wraps tightly around the base of his cock. 

“No, Hannibal, please,” he begs as his body backs away from the edge.   
“Ask for it.” 

“Please, Hannibal, let me come.” 

“Why?” 

Frederick wracks his brain for reasons. The only ones that jump to the forefront are because my dick is hard and because I want to, neither of which are what Hannibal is looking for. He gets a long, drawn out, teasing stroke before Hannibal’s hand resumes its place at his base. 

“There is no answer I can give you,” Frederick finally replies, “because the decision is completely yours as is the reasoning.” 

“Good boy,” Hannibal whispers into his ear. He releases Frederick’s hand from behind his back and moves his own hand up to his bared throat. Hannibal holds his throat and presses down, cutting off Frederick’s air supply. His eyes dart to the mirror and he watches as he gasps helplessly beneath Hannibal’s hand while the doctor’s other hand moves hard and fast over his cock. He chokes, both his hands resting on Hannibal’s arms as he holds on for dear life. 

His orgasm takes him out like a sneaker wave. It hits him from behind and his nerves erupt as he screams around Hannibal’s hand. The hand lessens its pressure as Frederick sobs and shoves his hips forward as he rides out his orgasm. He’s grateful for Hannibal’s body behind his own because he can hardly stand as the pleasure slowly ebbs and he’s left jelly legged and gasping for air. 

When he looks at the mirror a final time he stares because the hungry look in Hannibal’s eyes captures his attention. He’s never felt more desired in his life. Frederick takes in the sight, from Hannibal’s lean, powerful body behind him to his own trembling mess. There is come splashed on the mirror, on the floor, and on Hannibal’s hand which is presented to Frederick. He laps at the sticky fluid and watches himself in the mirror as he does it. Standing where Dr. Frederick Chilton once stood was just a beautifully broken man, and for the first time in recent memory he was okay. 

Once Hannibal’s hand is clean he wraps his arms firmly around Frederick’s waist and holds him there in a warm embrace. Frederick turns his head and once again presses his face into the curve of Hannibal’s neck. He rests for a moment, struggles to catch his breath and return to himself. Hannibal’s fingertips tease gently at the scar on his belly. 

“You will stay the night and I will make you breakfast in the morning,” Hannibal insists just as Frederick begins to doze off standing in the other man’s arms. 

“Okay,” he answers because there is no use in insisting otherwise. He wants to stay. So he does.


	19. In Prison - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chilton and Will have an inappropriate discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Yunafire's birthday on tumblr!

“Doctor Chilton,” Will greeted from within the confines of his interview cage. The bars were familiar to him now. He recognized the new scratches left by unruly patients who probably struggled to get at whoever was on the other side. Toward the bottom on one of the bars was a crude drawing of a penis that the cleaning crew had attempted to bleach away to no avail. How anyone had managed to get a sharpie past the orderlies, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps one of the nurses had drawn it out of spite, or to amuse patients trapped within its confines.

After his greeting his gaze had drifted and he didn’t register what Frederick had said until the doctor said it a third time, as evident by the annoyance displayed on his face. He finally made eye contact with the other man, lazy in his movements as he offered him a faint smile.

“Where do you go, Mr. Graham?” Frederick asked icily as he took a seat in his usual chair, cane clutched in his hand.

“What makes you think I go anywhere? Really I should ask where you go during our sessions because as of late I’m pretty sure you haven’t really been paying attention to my words.”

Frederick grimaced. It was a small movement, a mix of a twitching eyebrow and a slight downturn of his mouth. Will enjoyed it. Then again, he enjoyed just about any expression he was able to pull out of the psychiatrist because the other man had such an expressive face.

“This isn’t about me,” Frederick was quick to reply, “you need to stop flipping things around and talk about you.”

“You want me to talk about me, Frederick?” He dropped his voice when he said the other man’s name and smirked dangerously when Frederick attempted to suppress a shiver.

“Yes,” he replied and sounded out of breath which meant Will had him where he wanted him.

So Will stood and took a step up to the front of the cage. He pressed his forehead against the bars and reached out his hand through them, beckoning the other man over. Frederick hesitated. Will knew he could. He could taste the anxiety radiating off of the psychiatrist just as much as he could understand his arousal. When Frederick stood and crossed the threshold between chair and cage, Will’s stomach tightened because he was finally victorious.

The fact there was a strange look of trust in the other man’s eyes was a nice change of pace.

“You have this room bugged,” Will stated matter-of-factly as he reached out and tugged Frederick right up to the bars. There was a flash of fear that was quickly repressed and Will loosened his grip on the psychiatrist’s wrist and stroked his fingers gently against his pulse. “So do you want me to say what I’m going to say loudly enough that you can replay it later, or should we keep this between us?”

“I would, I will,” Frederick stuttered out his words and fought for composure. Will loved every minute of it as his fingers crept along the underside of the other man’s wrist and slid into the cuff of his shirt. Frederick’s heart was pounding, he could feel it beneath his fingertips. “Everything said between us is confidential, Mr. Graham,” Frederick cleared his throat nervously and jumped when Will slid his other hand through the bars and hooked his fingers in one of the belt loops on the doctor’s slacks.

“Do you want to hear me talk about what I want to do to you again, Frederick? You’re not answering the question.”

“I do. If you speak a bit louder the recordings will pick it up.”

Will watched Frederick’s Adam apple bob as the other man swallowed nervously. There was a light sheen of sweat on the back of the other man’s neck and Will smirked a bit to himself. He tightened the curl of his finger in Frederick’s belt loop.

“I know your cane is mostly for show, but it still helps you balance. If I had my way I’d kick it out from under you and force you to use me as your balance while I fucked you hard against a wall, doctor Chilton.”

He watched the other man’s eyes slide half closed and admired the way his cheeks reddened. When he glanced down between them he could see the distinct outline of Frederick’s arousal.

“I’d shove you against the wall and rip off your expensive clothes. You’d have to try to piece them together again after I was done with you and you’d love it. You want the world to know you’re owned by someone. Underneath your flashy clothes you’re just a man who wants to feel completely and utterly out of control.”

“Will,” Frederick’s voice broke and he rested his temple against the bar. If it weren’t for the cage, their foreheads would be touching.

“I know, Frederick,” Will shifted his voice to a gentler tone. There was true affection buried deep beneath his antics for the broken, arrogant, ridiculous man in front of him, “and you know I know because of my empathy disorder. That gets you off too, doesn’t it? I can understand what you need without you ever having to say a word. I would be able to anticipate your needs because I would be inside of your head and inside of mine while I fucked you against the wall. You want that. Tell me you want it.”

When Frederick replied with silence, Will began to pull back. Just as he anticipated, Frederick grabbed his wrist and held him in place.

“I want it.”

“What do you want, Frederick? You have to speak up.”

“I want,” he hesitated and made eye contact with Will, “you to have me against a wall.”

“Say the word, Frederick. Say it like I said it.”

“I want you to fuck me against a wall.”

Frederick shivered and Will felt it, internalized it, enjoyed every minute of the other man’s arousal. All the doctor wanted was to be led and coaxed. He wanted to be given no other choice to comply because a small part of him craved submission. Images danced through Will’s mind and he wondered for a moment if Frederick had been turned on even when he was strapped to an operating table with Abel Gideon’s hands groping around inside of him.

“When I get out,” Will whispered and yanked Frederick’s entire body against the bars of the cage. The psychiatrist’s face ended up pressed to the bars as the man exhaled sharply.

Will brushed his lips to a warm, red cheek, then released him and stood back.

“Go on, doctor Chilton. Get out of here.”

He watched with amusement as the doctor retrieved his cane and half-hobbled out of the room.


	20. Broken Glass - Chillywilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frederick breaks a mirror.

Frederick stares at the broken mirror. The shards litter the floor and sparkle in the light which trickles through the curtains covering the window. According to his calculations it has been about ten minutes since he decided to punch the mirror and smash it on the ground. He’s been bleeding for ten minutes, too. Not profusely, which is why he’s okay with just sitting on the floor for a while, but it still can’t be good. His hands are covered in cuts. The worst of them stretches across his palm from where he’d recoiled and squeezed his hand into a fist without realizing there was a piece of glass still in it. 

He figures adding another scar to the collection isn’t that big of a deal. 

There are whines outside the bedroom door and the sound of nails on wood. They were worried when he initially shut them out of the room and now they are practically inconsolable. He hears one of them, probably Buster from the sound of the high pitched whines, crying desperately. He wants to shout at them to go away and leave him alone but knows it won’t do any good. After all, they’re just dogs.

When he finally looks down at his hands and arms he thinks back to the moment he woke up in his sitting room covered in blood. It is a very similar scene, when he thinks about it. The way the blood sinks into the fabric of his shirt and rests heavy against his skin makes him wonder if he ever really woke up in the first. Maybe he’s really back at his home covered in blood in the middle of a crime scene someone he thought was a friend staged. 

The situation should scare him but instead he laughs and then sobs quietly as the blood drips to the floor. 

He doesn’t realize the dogs stopped whining until the door is already opened and Will stands there. Frederick tilts his head back and peers up into the empath’s eyes and smiles tiredly. For a moment he wonders if Will is reconstructing the events of the evening. He probably is. Frederick rests his head back against the foot of the bed. 

"You’re an idiot," Will growls as he disappears and Frederick thinks maybe he is gone for good until he returns with an armful of towels. The other man sinks down onto his knees and wraps the towels around Frederick’s bleeding hands and applies firm pressure. 

Frederick shifts and presses his face into the curve of Will’s neck, ignoring the way his lover tenses at the contact. He’s in trouble but more than that he’s tired and doesn’t care. For a while he disappears into his own mind and goes through the motions. Will leads him to the bathroom. Will strips him from the waist up. Will forces his arms under the shower and washes off the blood to find the cuts. Will hisses and curses and grumbles under his breath as he attends to the one on Frederick’s right palm and works away from there. 

Eventually he comes back to himself as he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat watching Will messily stitch up his palm. The needle stings but it is nothing more than what Frederick has done to himself in the past when he’s opted for his own hand instead of making a trip to the ER. He flexes his hand and grimaces when Will is finished and feels hot tears returning to his eyes. They streak down his cheeks, hot and shameful, even as Will wipes them away carefully with a cold cloth. 

The next he knows he’s doubled over with his face pressed uncomfortably against Will’s shoulder sobbing and there are hands in his hair and on his back, rubbing and coaxing and soothing. Will’s breath brushes against his ear as the other man whispers to him about how he’s so stupid and he has to start taking care of himself and that he is worth something and deserves to be okay. When there aren’t anymore tears, Frederick slides down onto his knees and throws his arms around Will. 

Will guides them carefully onto the bathroom floor and they lay on the cool tile for a while as Frederick tries to recollect himself. The other man sings softly into his hair as Frederick finally relaxes and heavy exhaustion settles over him. 

"We should move to the bed," Will suggests but Frederick shakes his head and huffs out a sigh. Beneath his cheek, Will’s shoulder drops in a shrug and they stay on the bathroom floor as Frederick fades out of consciousness.


End file.
